Forever Faithful
by Writer Charmante
Summary: Hermione Granger is the cleverest witch of her time, and has been working on a plan to help Harry finally defeat Voldemort. How far would he and his deatheaters go to stop her, and who can she trust when there is a traitor among friends? Year 6 RHr HG
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognize belongs to J.K Rowling. Anything you don't recognize belongs to me, so please do not plagiarize. I am making no profit off of this. It is purely for fun.  
  
**Author's Note:** A special thanks goes to my lovely beta-reader Kat! She is amazing and helped me very much with this fic. Getting a beta was the best thing I could have done for my story, and I suggest you get someone to beta yours as well!

* * *

Rain beat down on the Corner house as dark storm clouds filled the sky. The lightening battled the ominous gray clouds and won, as a spectacularly bright bolt pierced the night. Thunder crashed as heavy droplets beat down on the glass windows, as loud as a soldier's march. The dismal scene was a sign of foreboding, and mirrored what was happening inside of the small cottage. Frank Corner, husband and father of two, lay dead on the floor, no blood in sight. Instead a faint trace of green light could be seen radiating off of his form, the only remnants of the curse that killed him.

Showing no mercy, his attackers, hooded in black, continued to destroy the once quaint house. An antique vase crashed into a wooden china cabinet, shattering the glass, which scattered everywhere. One man set fire to a large armchair in the corner, his white-blond hair that peaked from beneath his hood, gleaming under the light of the flame. He turned to a girl, no older than eleven, who was huddled in the corner beneath a table. "Get out of there you little bitch," he snapped at the girl. She didn't budge. Infuriated, he whipped out his wand. "Do you know who I am? Do you understand what you're doing by disobeying me? Now I suggest you get the hell out of there you filthy little girl or there will be hell to pay". "Rebecca, stay put!" screamed her mother, who was being restrained by a man with his hand around her throat, who had just taken her wand away. The man with the silvery hair whipped around to face her, and slapped her dead across the cheek. "If you don't come out of there this instant I will have your mother killed, and you my dear, will have the fortune of watching it." His thin lips curled into a sneer and the first wrinkles of aging that surrounded his eyes crinkled. It was visible that he was enjoying this immensely. At this, Rebecca crawled out from beneath her hiding place and stood before the deatheater, her hands clenching in her pockets. She held her chin up and stared the nasty man square in the eye. "Now, I see it fit for you to remove you dress," snarled the man. The girl's mother gasped from her spot in the corner. "Do it, you filthy little bitch". 

"I won't do it," stated the girl, with only a small waver in her voice. "Perhaps this might change your mind". And with that, the deatheater had his wand out and ready, aiming at the girl and muttering a single word.  
  
"Crucio".  
  
The girl's screams echoed off the walls as she writhed in pain. Her hands were fisted in the rug beneath her as the man continued to send the curse her way. As her mother stood bawling in the corner, she tried to remain strong and endure as much of this pain as she could. Her brother had warned her of this before, when he returned from his fourth year of his school, where he was receiving training as a wizard. That had been a year ago, and as a nine-year-old child she never considered the reality of her brother's words.  
  
She knew that things were not well in the magical world, but as a child she never gave much thought to it. In her mind, magic came with no badness, just spells, broomsticks, and interesting creatures. Being of age ten, for all she knew she could be receiving a letter by owl as an invitation to a magical castle in just a few short months The thought normally excited her, but now it brought tears to her eyes. Tears of sadness that were mixed with the tears being created by the excruciating pain being jolted throughout her entire body.  
  
The magical world that Michael spoke of had always seemed so beautiful, so unreal. As the youngest child of a magical family, she had been forced to watch as her older brother got to practice magic while she sat and watched. Using magic had always been an ongoing fantasy, and her dream of being a powerful witch became more real with each greatly anticipated day to her eleventh birthday in July.   
  
When Michael had told her of the war a year ago, she had shrugged it off, still immersed in her fantasies of turning buttons into gumdrops and flying on broomsticks. Now that she was feeling the pain herself, seeing her father dead on the floor by the hand of some dark wizard, she understood that there was a dark side of the magical world too.  
  
After what seemed like hours, she felt the pain somewhat subside, although her body was still reeling with the aftershocks of whatever horrible spell, or was it a curse? That had hit her.   
  
"Now I think we might be a little bit more eager to cooperate, isn't that right?" said the sneering man in black robes. "Now take off that dress of yours before I have to rip it off myself. We wouldn't want it to tear, it's so very lovely," he remarked in a singsong voice.  
  
As Rebecca opened her mouth to protest, her mother beat her too it. "Becca, don't you listen to a wor—"  
  
"Shut your mouth, you bitch!" With one quick motion of his arm and two strange-sounding words from his lips, Rebecca saw her mother crumple to the ground in a flash of green light. Rebecca's jaw dropped when she realized that her mother was dead, and she was left alone with two strange men who would surely kill her.  
  
"Where's my brother?" she screamed. Tears were pouring down her face. She felt as if her soul had left her when she saw her mother fall to the ground. If she could find Michael maybe he could use what he learned at that school to get her out of there…  
  
"I wouldn't count on seeing him anymore, love," cooed the evil man, staring at her with his ever-present grin. She didn't think he would even be half bad looking if he wiped that stupid sneer off his face. As realization dawned on her at his words, she sank to the floor, overcome by grief. The only conclusion she could come up with was that they had killed Michael, too. Shaking with fear, she curled up in a ball and leaned against the wall, hoping that this was only some terrible nightmare. The man yanked her up, and held her close to him.  
  
"Now it's time for the real fun to begin, my dear," he whispered.  
  
He used his wand to silence the screams that escaped her lips as she felt his cold hands unfastening the back of her dress.

* * *

Ron Weasley woke up in a sweat. Still half asleep, he swore under his breath, wishing that it had only been a nightmare this time. He felt a soothing hand on his forehead, as he felt his head hit the pillow. The last thing he remembered before he drifted off was a soft, gentle voice, and a cloud of bushy brown hair.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One  
  
Author's Note: Many thanks go to Kat, my wonderful beta reader! :)**

* * *

"Hermione, will you please pass the juice?" Hermione Granger continued reading her newspaper, not noticing that anyone was speaking her. She furrowed her brow and held her paper closer, reading, by the look on her face, what seemed to be a particularly interesting passage when all of a sudden her paper was yanked away and replaced by a head of red hair and a pair of blue eyes.   
  
"What did you do that for Ron? I was reading," Hermione said, a bit peeved. She read the Daily Prophet over breakfast every day at Hogwarts, and it appeared she would have to make some adjustments while staying at the Burrow, which was always full of interruptions.   
  
"Well Hermione, in case you haven't noticed, I have asked you to pass the juice about six times already." He drummed his fingers on the table impatiently but smiled and thanked her when she passed him the pitcher. "What is it you're reading about, anyway?"   
  
"Nothing, just the report on yesterday's attack" Ron's face turned solemn at the mention of the previous day's attack on Michael Corner's house. After hearing about the news last night he had been feeling a bit uneasy. After all, Michael was in his year at Hogwarts, which struck pretty close to home. He immediately felt bad for being so hard on Ginny for going out with him. He knew it must have been hard for Ginny, having that happen must be as hard for her as it would be for him if anything ever happened to…   
  
Hermione continued to read the article with a very interested look plastered on her face. Ron sighed. He assumed it was even more bad news on the previous day's attack, and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know about it. He'd already had a nightmare about it the night before, though it had felt oddly real.  
  
"What does the article say, Hermione? Anything we don't already know?" Ron asked. At this time, Mr. Weasley entered the room, hat in hand. He sat down at the table and hurriedly starting spooning some scrambled eggs onto his plate.   
  
"I've got to be going to the Ministry, but Molly would kill me if she knew I didn't eat breakfast," Mr. Weasley said. Ron rolled his eyes at this, but Hermione smiled.   
  
"Dad, do you know anything new about yesterday's attack?" Ron questioned. Mr. Weasley swallowed the bit of food in his mouth, and then averted his eyes. Ron threw him a questioning glance, and his father cleared his throat.   
  
"There is good news and bad news, I'm afraid," Mr. Weasley began. Hermione abandoned her paper and looked at him, waiting for him to continue. "The good news is that they have changed the death count from three to two." Ron and Hermione looked thoroughly intrigued by this, so Mr. Weasley pressed on. "As of yesterday, it was released that Mr. Frank Corner, Mrs. Elizabeth Corner, and Michael Corner were the deatheater's victims, as told to officials by Rebecca Corner. However, only two bodies were found, those of the mother and father. Rebecca later told the authorities that she hadn't actually seen the deatheaters kill Michael. This, however, brings us to the bad news. Michael is missing, and from what Rebecca told us the deatheaters told her that she wouldn't be seeing her brother anytime soon. This gives us reason to believe that as of now Michael is either dead or being tortured."   
  
Hermione gasped, and Ron laid a comforting hand on her forearm. It was difficult for both of them to believe what could be happening to someone in their very own year at Hogwarts at this very moment.   
  
"Is the little girl alright?" Hermione asked. "It said in the Daily Prophet she had been raped by one of the deatheaters. It also says that a memory charm was put on her so they can't identify who did it."  
  
At this Ron was seething. _The nerve of those sick bastards, raping a little girl_, he thought. Images of he and Ginny as younger children filled his mind. Luckily his sister was old enough to handle herself, and knew quite a few charms that would really send a deatheater on his way.   
  
"Other than that," said Mr. Weasley, "the girl is fine. She is staying with muggle relatives, who have been told the Corners died in a car accident, until further notice. Because of the memory charms placed on her, she has no recollection of the incident." Mr. Weasley glanced at the clock, which had his arrow pointing to 'Time to go to work', and got up, pushing in his chair. "I best be off, don't want to be late. Have a nice day, you two," and with that he apparated out of the kitchen.   
  
"Hermione, what do you-" Ron began, but trailed off when he saw her face. Her brown eyes were filled with unshed tears, as she stared vacantly out the window. "Hermione, I know this is going to sound like a stupid question, but what's the matter?"   
  
"Everything's the matter, Ron." She stood, pushing in her chair. "We haven't even been on holiday for a week and look what's happened!" She grabbed her paper, glancing at the front-page headline, which read 'Death Eater Attack: One child left Orphaned, Other Gone Missing!' "This makes me sick," she said, tearing the paper to shreds. She hurled the ripped up pieces into the dustbin and stormed out through the kitchen door. Ron, a little taken aback, reluctantly followed her out of the doors.  
  
The sight that greeted him was not at all what he expected. He expected to see Hermione poised on the garden bench, thinking up some clever way to solve the horrible predicament they were in. He expected to see Hermione extract some large volume from her bag and scan through its pages searching for some possible solutions. He half-expected to see her infuriated, and taking the wrath out on the remains of her poor Daily Prophet. He did not, however, expect to see Hermione leaning against a large Weeping Willow, bawling. He had seen her cry when being teased, he had seen her cry while giving an apology, and he had seen her cry when she was overjoyed, but never had he seen her wailing, all because of You-Know-Who and his band of bloody deatheaters. That certainly wouldn't do.   
  
"Hermione," he said, as he approached her, kneeling down next to her. "Do you, er, want to talk about this?" All he heard was muffled sobs coming from the mass of thick curls that hid her face unceremoniously. Unsure of what to do next, he put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, "I am here if you want to talk, I thought you should know". At this, she looked up and gazed at him, her face tear-streaked and wearing a somber expression.   
  
As odd as it sounded, Ron never thought she had looked more beautiful. Her hair was a mess, wild and crazy, with little curls springing out at random. Her cheeks were flushed; her expression serious, but what really got to him was her eyes. The beautiful brown orbs were glistening with unshed tears, but they were as bright and inquisitive as ever. "Ron, that could just as easily of been any of us," she replied, gravely. "Michael Corner was our age. He was only sixteen, and now he is probably being tortured by deatheaters, or actually, he is probably dead. What if it had been Harry? What if it had been you?" her voice rose in panic.   
  
"Hermione, you know Harry is very well protected. And me, well I suppose I…er…"   
  
"Ron?"   
  
"Yes, Hermione?"   
  
"Just stay safe. Promise me you won't leave?"   
  
"I promise." And with that, she broke down again. Heavy sobs that wracked her small frame, so that all she could do was bury her head in his chest and cry until some of the pain had subsided. Ron, somewhat awkwardly, put his arms around her and held her to him, running his hand soothingly up and down her back. However unexpected and awkward the situation, he thought that it felt right, having her in his arms, knowing that she wasn't as strong as she let on, and that maybe she actually did need him, too.

* * *

Miles away, Harry Potter awoke from his sleep. It was a very peaceful sleep, which was quite odd for him. Most would find Harry's sleeping habits normal for a teenage boy on summer holiday; he was sleeping until around noon every day. But for a boy like Harry Potter, this was not necessarily a good thing. There were no sweet dreams being clouded by evil laughter, visions of death, and the menacing sneer of a man no better than the devil. In his mind, no news was not necessarily good news, because this usually meant the worst. He had to be up to something.   
  
As Harry sat up and stretched, his snowy owl flew over to him, landing on his shoulder. He gave her an owl treat after she dropped a letter on his lap. It appeared to have his name on the front, written in a feminine scrawl. Without his glasses on he couldn't read it, but he assumed it was from Hermione. He put the letter on his bedside table and lay back down on his bed. Although he did miss his friends, his bitterness had once again gotten the best of him. It wasn't fair for him to be locked up with the Dursleys all summer while Ron and Hermione got to be together at the Burrow, the one place aside from Hogwarts that he truly loved. Yes, Hermione's letter could wait. After all, he was the one who would be doing the most waiting this summer. 


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter 2**

_A/N- Thanks goes to Kitty for her excellent suggestions/beta-ing!_

* * *

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, illuminating everything in the room. Not even Harry could sleep through this, so very reluctantly, he got out of his bed in the smallest bedroom of number 4 Privet drive. While reaching for his glasses on his bedside table his hand instead grasped what felt like a letter. Remembering Hermione's letter, he found his glasses, put them on, and tore open the envelope. He was very surprised to see that the letter was not from Hermione as he had expected, but from Ginny Weasley.  
  
_Harry,  
  
I'm sure by now you've heard the news about Michael and his family. I figured that maybe you would like to talk about it. You're not the only one who feels alone now, Harry. It was only a short while ago that Michael and I ended what we had, and I would be lying if I said I didn't care about him. You and I are both coping with different losses right now, both of them terrible. I know I should be seeing you in a short time, as Mum and Dad have been speaking with Dumbledore about letting you come early. They don't think that we will be going to the Order's headquarters. In fact, I overheard Mum saying it was bad idea to ever bring us there in the first place. If we are in danger, however, we may have no choice but to go Grimmauld Place. Bugger, I really hate that dank old house. Well, Harry, I hope to hear from you soon. I know that losing Sirius must be dreadful for you, but I understand what you're going through. We're more alike than you would think.  
  
Your friend, Ginny Weasley_

Harry held Ginny's letter at an arm's length, carefully re-reading its contents. This was the Ginny Weasley who once blushed crimson at the sight of him? He and Ginny had been spending a bit more time together than they ever used to, but she had never before written him a letter. He didn't know what to make of it, but he felt slightly mollified by Ginny's letter. At least she had said what needed to be said. He had received a few letters from Ron and Hermione, each containing the monotonous small talk that lacked any real substance. "I'm fine, I hope you are doing well," or "Did you hear that the Cannons are eighth in the league? That's the highest they've been in years!" He was tired of his two best friends skirting around the issues that needed to discussed, if only for his sake. Sitting alone in a quiet bedroom, one was left with nothing to do but think, or sleep, really. While he lay on his bed, hour after hour, only one thing ever came to mind: Sirius, his godfather, the one who had died with a tainted name, all because of him. It was his fault for sending them on some huge chase, all for nothing. He had to be the valiant hero and save the day, just like he always did. Maybe he did depend on his fame more than he ever believed.  
  
He folded up Ginny's letter and put it back in the envelope. Grabbing a quill, some ink, and some parchment from beneath his bed, he wrote her back. He was sure to let her know his appreciation for what she had said. He had a feeling that instead of him being the hero as he always was, Ginny may be the one to save him after all

* * *

Hermione Granger lay on her stomach on her bed in Ginny's bedroom at the Burrow. She was doing a Potions essay that wasn't due for another two months, but she figured it would be best to get her homework out of the way so she would have the rest of the summer to do as she pleased, getting in some extra reading, for example. Besides that, she really wanted to get her mind off the numerous things that were clouding it. The Corners, Ron, her parents, Ron, Harry, Ron, the deatheaters, Ron, Voldemort, and more importantly, Ron, had been filling her thoughts all afternoon.  
  
Not that it was anything unusual for her to be thinking about Ron, but as of late, it was becoming too much. Her once girlish crush seemed to be blossoming into something more, something that lingered over her at all hours, something that kept her awake at night, and something that she would feel perfectly comfortable with if only she knew how he felt. She had long excepted that Ron was a bit slow when it came to matters of the heart, but she often wondered how long she would have to wait, and if he would ever return her affections at all. She liked to think that he felt it, too, the thickness in the air between them; so stifling that she could hardly breathe when he was near. Then again, this was Ron, and the whole thing could have just passed entirely over his head, like so many other things had. She believed there was a spark between the two of them, and she was still waiting for him to discover it.  
  
Not to mention she was worried about Ron. She knew he was having some trouble coping with the attack. This was more than just an assumption, though. She had been on her way to the bathroom in the middle of the previous night when she heard some movement in Ron's room. When she had opened the door, being careful not to make any noise by tripping over the clutter on the floor, she had walked to his bedside to see him tossing, turning, and talking in his sleep. Feeling the need to comfort him, she had gotten into his bed to try and mollify him. She had stroked his hair, and left him with a kiss on the forehead, hoping that his nightmares would go away. Even more so, she hoped that Ron would not remember the incident in the morning. She wasn't sure how he would react to her attention, and would prefer not knowing about it. After completing the last few lines of her essay, she thought of something else that needed to be done. Just as she was beginning her Transfiguration essay, a knock on the door broke her concentration. "Who is it?"  
  
"It's just me," said Ginny as she came into the room. She sat on the edge of Hermione's bed, right next to her. Something about Ginny looked different. Hermione noticed the grave look in her usually bright blue eyes.  
  
"Gin, what's wrong?"  
  
She averted her glance from Hermione's. "Oh, it's nothing I need to bother you with, you've already heard about it enough, I'm sure".  
  
Realization dawned on Hermione; Michael had been Ginny's ex-boyfriend, obviously this had to have been very difficult for her. "I think it's best to talk about it. I know you and Michael had broken up, but I'm certain this must be very hard for you".  
  
Ginny's eyes filled with tears at the mention of his name, but Hermione still could see something else in her gaze besides sadness, however she just couldn't place it.  
  
"I know I have Dean now, but I still can't help but feel some sort of connection to Michael, and I just don't want it!" Hermione wasn't exactly sure how this connection felt, as she had never had a boyfriend of her own, but she imagined the loss of someone that she cared for would be terrible.  
  
"Ginny, this war is taking its toll on everyone, and it is horrible that you have to lose those you care about, but think of what you do have. You have a huge family that loves you, and are safe. You have your boyfriend, Dean, you have me, and you have Harry…" Hermione's voice trailed off as she said Harry's name. She knew that Harry knew loss more than anyone she had ever known. Given this fact, an idea struck Hermione. "Ginny, I'm sure Harry could use a friend right now in fact I bet that you could write him and-"  
  
"Actually I've already written him," Ginny interjected, the familiar blush creeping to her cheeks as it usually did when she mentioned Harry. Despite her numerous boyfriends while at Hogwarts, Hermione was certain the Ginny still did have feelings for a certain raven-haired friend of theirs, however much she would ever deny it.  
  
"Well that's good. Good for you and even better for Harry. I'm just at a loss of what to say, really. I've never gone through this like he has." Hermione felt that familiar flood of tears at their brink, but held them in for Ginny's sake. She needed to be as strong as she always appeared to be. She embraced Ginny in a sisterly hug, which Ginny returned.  
  
"Am I interrupting anything?" came a sly voice from the hallway. The girls pulled apart as Ron entered the room, sporting a large grin. He must have seen Ginny's red-rimmed eyes and Hermione's serious expression, because his demeanor instantly changed. "What's happened?"  
  
"Oh nothing, Ron, just some girl talk that got a bit out of hand," came Hermione's reply. Ron turned a bit pink at the mention of girl talk, but collected himself enough to casually inform the girls that dinner would be ready in a quarter of an hour. Hermione glanced at his retreating form a little longer than she expected was normal, for she heard some poorly-contained snickering coming from her left.  
  
"And exactly what are you laughing at?"  
  
"Erm…nothing, Hermione. But how long will it be before you finally just let Ron know how you feel about him?" Hermione gaped, and Ginny burst out in full giggles at her reaction.  
  
"Am I really that obvious?"  
  
"No, I'm just a girl and I understand these things. Don't worry, Hermione, he really does care for you. He's just too daft to have realized it, yet."  
  
Hermione was glad to have some reassurance from someone, and perked up a bit at Ginny's comment. Maybe she wasn't silly for waiting for him after all.  
  
"Come on, Gin, we're already late. We better go down for dinner."  
  
"Or else mum will make us clean up dishes afterwards. Or even worse- we may have to do the laundry. You've no idea how smelly those boys get after they play quidditch. And I've had to live with it all of these years!"  
  
At this, both girls broke out in the giggles as they hurried down the stairs for supper.

* * *

After they'd all eaten, Hermione and Ginny lay on the floor of the Burrow's living room. Ginny was leafing through one of her Teen Witch magazines, while Hermione entertained herself by finishing up her Transfiguration essay. Ron entered the room, capturing Hermione's attention.  
  
"Do you want to go outside and have a walk? It's not dark yet and there's even a pond over in the back, near the woods."  
  
Hermione was grateful to have something else to distract her from her homework. She could have used a break. "Sure Ron, let me just take these things upstairs. Are you coming Gin?"  
  
"No, I'm rather tired, didn't sleep well last night. You two can go on ahead". Ginny gave Hermione a knowing look, one that made Hermione blush and Ron look a bit perplexed. Hermione sent Ginny a glare while Ron wasn't looking, as she picked up her things and went to put them in her room. This was going to be very interesting.


End file.
